Watermelon Kiss
by Furtively Lethargic
Summary: "Well, if you win, I gotta give you a kiss," she mumbled. Then Madge smiled feebly. "Still up for it, Hawthorne?"


**DISCLAIMER: **Suzanne Collins owns the Hunger Games trilogy.

**A/N**: I totally love Gadge, as I love Everlark and Annick. But I think these two deserve attention, yeah? :) I wanted to make a multi-chaptered story, but I've got other things to finish so I'll just stick to a one-shot (slight **AU**). C: Buen provecho!

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**Watermelon Kiss**

"Aye, aye! Move aside!"

Gale Hawthorne stepped to the side, letting the man with the heavy wagon pass him. His hands were in his pockets as he strolled towards the town square. There was a festival, a celebration of _something_, and so there were many people from their district to come. From the poor side or from the rich side, they were _there_. Katniss, however, was with Peeta- trying to help bake some bread for Prim and his siblings. Gale didn't want to voice out his opinion about it; simply told Peeta to keep the children alive, snickering when Katniss attempted to throw a tray of cookie dough at his head while he left the kitchen.

The sun was setting and the sky was a mixture of pink, orange, yellow, and light purple. Maybe if he was more like Mellark, he'd appreciate the view while trying to etch it out his mind. Sighing through his nose and forcing the thoughts of Mellark's paintings from his mind, Gale slipped in the crowds of people. He was sure his mother was here, probably with Mrs. Everdeen and Posy, having let themselves some happiness after everything they've gone through these past months.

With his gray eyes, he keenly scanned the crowd while pausing in the middle of the square. A variety of stands were propped up, he noted absently, ranging from refreshment stands to eating-contests stands—

Suddenly, his gaze focused on the watermelon-eating-contest stand; it was empty. Well, save for the one person _running_ the stand. It was Madge Undersee; she was sitting prettily on a stool, her elbows resting on the wooden table with her chin on her fists. She was watching the people pass by, not even trying to persuade them to come to her stand.

Gale scowled. Idiot, he thought while making his way towards her. Why isn't she coaxing the people to her stand? Hell, why put up a stand if you're not going to make an effort into swaying them over to your stand? Stupid. By the time he realized what he was doing, Gale Hawthorne had already found himself in front of a stunned-looking Undersee.

"Undersee," he greeted, placing his hands on the table. Gale was staring at her blue eyes- they were . . . actually attractive. Not that he'd admit that aloud.

"Hawthorne," Madge greeted, still surprised as she raised her chin from her fists. "Anything you need?" She was sitting straighter now, more alert.

"Nah," he replied, waving a hand dismissively. Her blue eyes continued to look at him patiently. And he stared back, not flinching. Madge briefly dropped her gaze before glancing back at him.

The corner of her mouth twitched as she frowned a little. "Then what do you want?"

"No wonder why no one's at your stand," Gale said instead. Madge lifted her subtle shoulders in a dainty shrug. As if she doesn't care.

"This . . . isn't even really my stand. I was just pulled in here by Michelle- you know her right?" Madge said, raising one elegant eyebrow. Gale nodded once. Another town girl; he never thought that Madge and Michelle were friends. "And Arnold and her are, you know, a '_thing_'?" she asked, using air quotation marks. Then she sighed, placing her hands on her cheeks. Ah, forced. "I was just walking around too."

"Then why don't you leave?" Gale asked, his eyebrows both raised. What an idiot.

"And abandon this stand she obviously worked on?" Madge asked, a tired tone in her voice.

"Well, if she worked on it, then it's _her_ responsibility. Not yours," he said with a shrug.

The blonde simply sighed again. "She said she'll be back."

"And how long has it been?" Gale asked, leaning forward.

"Gale, why are you even here?" Madge responded, irritation quickly flashing in her eyes. Or perhaps there was _already_ annoyance in her mood when Michelle left her by the stand.

Gale ignored the question and watched Madge with an intent gaze. "Did you have a customer yet?"

"Michelle did," Madge mumbled, lowering her gaze on the wood and tracing its patterns with her eyes, "None when I took her place," she said softly with another shrug- but this time, it was diffident.

"I must be sent from the heavens then," Gale said, noticing the inferiority she was trying hard to hide, "because I volunteer as your first customer." He gave her a crooked smile.

Madge lifted her blue eyes to meet his and felt a small, grateful smile spread across her lips. "I don't think that's possible," she mumbled. Lightly pressing her fingertips on her throat- an anxious gesture, she continued, "This is a watermelon _competition_, you see. I don't think it'll be fair for you to win by default."

"Oh right. A competition. What's the prize then?" he asked.

At this, Madge moved back and bent her head, hiding her pink cheeks with her beautiful blonde hair. "Uh, that's not really . . ."

"What's the prize?" he asked again- more than curious. Why would she shift away from him out of the blue?

"It's not-" Madge tried again.

"Undersee," he interrupted, his hard stare cutting through her.

She cleared her throat, looking him square in the eye. "Well, if you win, I gotta give you a kiss," she mumbled. Then Madge smiled feebly. "Still up for it, Hawthorne?"

Gale glanced at her lips, watching her bite them nervously. He shrugged, not pausing—not hesitating. "Sure," he muttered.

As she stared at him, flabbergasted, Gale looked around for a willing competitor. There was a vast crowd around them, but no one came up to the stand. Madge sighed and pushed her hair back.

"This is futile. Just go home, Gale. Or, if not home, _somewhere_. You don't have to stick around here," Madge mumbled, pulling at her hair. "Maybe Michelle would be back now and-"

Gale completely ignored her for he was waving a man over. An older man with graying hair and an amiable smile strolled up to them and sat on the stool a few feet away from Gale. He nodded to Madge in a greeting and focused his gaze on the hunter.

"So, what do I owe you, Mr. Hawthorne?" he asked, putting his elbow on the table and his cheek in his palm.

"Nothing," Gale replied, smirking. "Just a little game, I guess. A friendly competition with watermelons."

"We don't hit our opponents with 'em, yeah?" the man asked.

Gale chuckled and shook his head. "No. Not at all."

"Hm, what's the prize?" the man asked. Madge, even though she's not in the conversation, blushes and bends her head down.

"Madge, why don't you tell Mr. Cole the winner's prize?" he asked, his smirk widening when Madge blushed madly and glared at him.

"Um," she gulped—oh Gale was totally enjoying it—and met Mr. Cole's gaze. "I kinda have to give the winner a kiss."

Mr. Cole smiled at Gale, winking. "Ah," he murmured knowingly.

"It's nothing like that," Gale muttered. He ignored the look Madge gave him. "Do you want to play or not?"

"Sure, anything for Ms. Undersee," Mr. Cole said, nodding to Madge. She blushed and smiled halfheartedly. "How much is it?"

"Just five coins," Madge replied. She was tempted to tell them that it's all on her- and they don't have to pay since they're _her_ first set of customers . . . but this isn't her business . . . so she simply accepted the coins Gale and Mr. Cole handed her. She placed them in the jar she saw Michelle use and pushed herself from behind the stand.

"Well, rules are simple. Whoever eats the most watermelons under half an hour wins," Madge explained, going around them and pushing a cart full of watermelons in the middle.

Gale stared at the watermelons. _Unbelievable_. Where the _hell_ did they get so many watermelons? He hadn't eaten any for years! Perhaps it was a good thing that he hadn't eaten anything this morning and afternoon . . .

"Don't tell me we're going to have to cut them open . . ." Gale muttered, glancing at Madge.

Madge shrugged, shaking her head. "I think," she paused, "that the watermelons are already cut. You just have to take the light wrappings off."

"I hope so," Mr. Cole grumbled, smirking playfully at Gale, "because I'm not as good as Gale when handling such things."

"You're too humble, Mr. Cole," Gale muttered, rolling his eyes with a half-smile. They both turned to look at Madge, who was watching their exchange with curious, blue eyes. The Seam hunter cleared his throat, effectively gaining Madge's undivided attention. "Do we start?"

"Hold on," Madge mumbled, fumbling with something under the table. She yanked it out and revealed a little black timer. For some odd reason, it reminded Gale of bombs . . . timers for bombs . . . oh hell, whatever. Madge takes a deep breath, "Good luck to you both." She gave them both a tiny smile and pressed the timer—at the same time, exclaiming, "Start!"

Gale speedily pulled a watermelon to his side and unwrapped the light wrapping. He could see the cuts; the watermelon was already cut- _good_, he thought while pulling a huge slice of watermelon out. He puts his lips on the watermelon and began eating. Every other chew, he spits out the seeds with watermelon juice dripping from his chin. It felt so amazing; it reminded him so much of the summer days when there were so many watermelons around. The reddish pink colored juice slid down his jaw, his neck, his arms. He felt so messy; yet very refreshed.

Fifteen minutes into it and he had finished three and a half watermelons. He didn't know how many Mr. Cole had finished, but hardly cared; because he was already getting full with all he was consuming. This could probably last him the whole week! Or no, maybe he's exaggerating. Gale grabbed another watermelon, fully aware that his lean, tan arms were covered in watermelon juice, the scent drifting to his wet nose (hell, even his _nose_ got wet) as he buried his mouth on the watery fruit. Yum.

"That's your fourth one, Gale," he heard Madge tell him. "Keep it up."

For a moment, Gale thought that she wanted _him_ to win- and then he heard say, "That's right, Mr. Cole. That's your fourth one. You're doing a good job."

Quickly devouring the watermelon in front of him- which took him less than three minutes (although he was messier than last time)- Gale grabbed his fifth watermelon and rushed his eating pace. He didn't know why, but he wanted to win. He didn't . . . want to waste his five coins for nothing! He should win this. That's right, he doesn't want to lose because it would be a total waste of money and he won't- Gale stopped his thoughts and continued to eat.

"You sure are fast, Hawthorne," Madge commented, an awed smile on her face, "That's pretty impressive. That's your seventh, by the way." He briefly looked up in time to see Madge slide to the other side, telling Mr. Cole that he was well on his sixth. Mr. Cole, however, was now taking his time in eating and leaned back, rubbing his tummy.

"I don't want to eat anymore."

"But you have one minute left," Madge said. She wasn't trying to coax him into eating more. Mr. Cole might get sick later- and no, it's not that she wanted Gale to win. It's just- Madge pushed her thoughts away and slowly reached out and patted Mr. Cole's arm, smiling warmly. "Great job, Mr. Cole."

Mr. Cole got this glint in his eyes and he gestured Madge to come closer. Reluctantly, the mayor's daughter leaned over the table as Mr. Cole moved closer to whisper something in her ear. "He likes you, you know. Couldn't stop staring at ya."

Madge's pulse sped up and she was _certain_ that her face was red. Surely he wasn't talking about Gale! He hates her guts! He's just being nice to her because he pities the fact that no one's participating in the stand! She glanced back down at the timer and jumped back, accidentally hitting the stand with her knee. She bit her lip to stop a shriek and said, "Stop! Let's see how many you guys ate."

She knew Gale won, knew that she didn't need to count the remains of his consumption, but she did it anyway. "Eight," Madge told Gale, weakly smiling. Then she turned to Mr. Cole and said, "Five."

There were applauses around them, congratulating Gale and teasing Mr. Cole, and Madge sank back on the wooden stool she was peacefully sitting on half an hour ago; her hands were cold and she felt nervous- because she was going to _kiss Gale Hawthorne_. Half of the crowd that surrounded them dispersed swiftly, going on about the rest of their evening. Some stayed to figure out what the prize was.

Madge scooted the stool towards the stand and shyly looked up at Gale. He was staring at her, his eyebrow raised, his lips somewhat quirked up; he was amused at her uneasiness! He really hates her then! This is more evidence for her statement to Mr. Cole . . .

"Do you want the prize?" Madge asked quietly. Her ears felt so warm, and her cheeks, and her face . . .

Gale shrugged. "I won, didn't I?"

Carefully, Madge made her way around the table and stood in front of Gale. She took a deep breath and gently grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down to level his face with hers. She could smell it; smoke, trees—it was so _Gale_. How many times have she tried to imagine how he smelled like? How he felt like against her body? She couldn't deny it, she really likes him. And this was such an odd way to . . . to make one of her fantasies come true.

Madge pushed herself up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips on his. His was wet with watermelon juice, yet very, very soft. She could feel his hands lightly curving around her waist as she stayed on her tiptoes, her lips firm against his despite the nervousness coursing through her body. Everything seemed to stop then; the time, the people around them- it was like they were _watching_ this moment. His lips moved on hers, warm and so implausibly soft . . .

Butterflies erupted in her stomach and her knees felt weak. Gale only tightened his grip around her waist when he felt her slowly sliding down; Madge was secretly grateful. She sighed delicately against his mouth and Gale unconsciously drew her closer.

Whether it was his lips or the lack of oxygen (or both), Madge's head began to spin. So she slowly pulled away, placing a hand on her forehead. She opened her eyes to see Gale watching her with that . . . that intense look. That look that gave her the chills- in a good way. Oh dear Lord, in a _very_ good way. Madge stepped back at the same time Gale dropped his hands from her waist and let out a breath.

"Congratulations," she mumbled, a blush on her cheeks.

Gale shoved his hands in his pockets. He was itching to touch her. Her waist felt so _petite_ in his rough hands. Her lips felt so velvety, and tasted sweet. Or was it because of the watermelons he ate? Her body felt so supple against his hard ones . . . Well, all he could say (or, rather, think of) is that the kiss was utterly _engaging_.

Madge raised her chin a bit, the pink tints still on her cheeks as she licked her lips once. "You taste like watermelon."

Gale glared at her, scowling. His heart was beating fast, and he didn't know why the hell it was beating like a loony, and he just can't keep the damn scowl on his face, so he turned away; gritting his teeth even though all he wanted to do was smile. So Madge Undersee tasted him, huh?

Mr. Cole laughed, his presence being acknowledged by the two teenagers alas. "I daresay that the two of you are smitten!"

They both ignored him, because deep down . . . they felt that it was true.

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**A/N**: So, whatcha think? I love, love, LOVE Gadge! Totally love it that I have to read some Gadge fics every day! C: Anyway, 'tis my first Hunger Games fic, so I hope y'all enjoyed it! Thank you for reading! ^_^


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